


Just Got Lost

by echoist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-04
Updated: 2010-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoist/pseuds/echoist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slight future!fic AU.  Dean has kicked Death in the pants, stolen his Precious, and is heading out to join up with Sam in the hopes of fixing the worst prison break ever, when he gets slightly interrupted.  Spoilers through 5.20, to be safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Got Lost

 

                Dean stopped at a familiar sound, the rustle and shift of a thousand wings splitting the air at the corners of his vision.  He turned, boots scuffing the cracked and oil-stained pavement, only to take an immediate step back as Castiel moved in.  “Dean,” the angel said, his voice an echo of rust and static. 

                Dean realized he had missed the sound of it.  “You’re alive,” he responded, swallowing his relief so it wouldn’t be written so plainly across his face.  The angel merely nodded, eyes sweeping across him to rest on the ring that dangled from a thin leather cord around his neck.  It was ancient and corroded, some unknown metal shaped to resemble a beast devouring its own tail. 

                “Took this from a guy named Death,” Dean tossed out, his tone a passable copy of nonchalance.  “Gabriel clued us in to a little secret about Lucifer’s prison before, he, uh –“  Dean sniffed, scratching at an imaginary itch beneath his nose. 

                “I know,” Castiel said, tilting his head like a sparrow hunting for seeds.  Dried blood crusted the angel’s shirt in a curious pattern, tugging stiffly when he moved.  “That’s how I found you.  It is far more powerful than the seal I placed upon you and your brother.”  Dean blinked, eyeing the traitorous signet warily, then spun around, looking for angels hidden in the shadows.

                Castiel read his actions and shifted, reappearing before him again.  “They will not think to track you by its signature.”

                “Guess they bet on the wrong dog in that fight,” Dean scoffed.  Just like those bastards to underestimate him when they weren’t calling the play. 

                “You could say that,” Castiel replied, glancing away.  He took a step forward, eyes fixed on a point somewhere behind Dean and slightly to the left.  “What you’re about to do is very dangerous.”

                Dean laughed, a real laugh, probably the first that had left his lungs in months.  “Cas, I just killed _Death_, and you’re telling me to be careful crossing the street?”

                “You didn’t kill him, Dean; he is Death, he is ever-present.  You merely postponed the inevitable and worse, stole an item of great importance.  He will not hesitate to reclaim it.”

                “I didn’t see you in there helping,” Dean grumbled angrily, taking an unconscious step forward as he always did when he needed to make a point.  “So he won’t stay dead, so what?  I got the ring, didn’t I?  That’s all we need to throw Lucifer back in jail, over and done with, end of story.”

                “I did not mean to belittle your victory, Dean.”  Castiel stared down at his shoes, at the glossy, oilslick sheen coating the parking lot below.  “Only to say that –“  He stopped, eyes darting back and forth over the ground, hesitating. 

                “I signed on for this, Cas.”  Dean stated gruffly.  “I’m gonna see it through.”  _This time_.  The words hung heavy in the air, unspoken.  “You can count on me.”

                “I know,” Castiel repeated, a slight smile flickering across his lips. “Besides,” Dean added, “I fuck this one up and you won’t have to kick my ass again; Lucifer will do it for you.”      




                Castiel’s eyes snapped shut as he tilted his face away, brow furrowing in distress.  “I just thought that I might – before you left, I wanted to –“

                Castiel lifted his head, his hands rising alongside as though pulled by a single string. They rested lightly against Dean’s cheeks as the angel held his gaze.  Dean’s mind raced the pounding in his chest, telling him to back away, to sever the unexpected and unasked for contact, but he stayed.  The parking lot was empty; there was no one left to see.  Hell, in a few hours, it might all be gone anyway.  Compared to the end of the world, it didn’t seem like anything worth getting worked up over.

                “Cas,” Dean said quietly, resting his hand at the back of the angel’s neck.  “It’s all right.”

                “Nothing is all right,” Castiel argued, and it crossed Dean’s mind that the only thing worse than a drunken angel might be a lost one.  He leaned in, planting a solid kiss on Castiel’s brow before pulling the angel close.  A moment later, Dean felt a breath rise and fall in Castiel’s chest and strong, wiry arms slipped awkwardly around his back.

                “It will be,” Dean promised.  “Trust me.”


End file.
